


Harry's Secret

by HawthornSparks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:23:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthornSparks/pseuds/HawthornSparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Harry Potter has a secret. </p><p>A mysterious woman has appeared briefly and occasionally throughout his life. He knows she means him  no harm, and her short visits create a familiarity, a personal connection between the two of them that Harry soon realises he doesn’t wish to share with anyone. </p><p>He never sees her arrive or leave, but is simply aware of her at certain points in his life. They never speak, simply greet each other with a slight acknowledgement, never interacting, she merely observes for a while. He has no idea who she might be, but finds himself missing her when she later disappears from his life.</p><p>Rating: General</p><p>Warnings: None.</p><p>Genre: Drama, Mystery, Canon as far as possible.</p><p>Any italicised writing is quoted directly from the British editions of the books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry's Secret

* * *

Chapter 1:

* * *

 

_It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. ... Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunch-time, wouldn’t fall back on their favourite hobby of hitting him... After lunch they went to the reptile house._

Trailing behind his relatives, Harry was eager to get into the cool darkness of the house up ahead of him, having always had a mild fascination with snakes and other reptiles.

Peering past Dudley’s fat bottom waddling ahead of him, Harry’s attention was diverted as he stumbled, having accidentally bumped into someone coming out of the reptile house. He looked up to see a woman, seemingly alright, and was ready to apologise when their eyes met. 

Words failed Harry for a split-second as something unspoken passed between himself and this stranger. He caught himself, and was just about to mutter a quick ‘sorry’ before attempting to catch up with the Dursleys, hoping they hadn’t noticed, when Uncle Vernon’s bellow echoed back through the doorway,

‘BOY!’ The formidable walrus-moustache made its way around the corner back to where Harry was, Aunt Petunia trotting up behind,

‘Terribly sorry madam, has the boy been bothering you?’ Vernon addressed the unknown woman, before turning back to Harry, ‘I warned you about what would happen. You apologise to this lady right now...’

But Harry wasn’t paying attention. The woman had studied Vernon with an amused expression before casting a quick smile in Harry's direction, and had walked away without saying a word.

‘See? Scared her off didn’t you. Honestly, upsetting strangers when we’re going out of our way for you, on Dudley’s birthday nonetheless! Ungrateful’s what I call it...’ Vernon’s ramblings continued on as Harry followed behind, scuffing his feet along the floor, the woman already out of his mind as he looked around the tanks.

_Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a dustbin – but at the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep._

 

* * *

Chapter 2: First Year

* * *

 

Part I

_‘Have a good term,’ said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away... Harry was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money and a large owl._

He wandered back up the platform towards the large plastic signs indicating 9 and 10, trying to look for some kind of marker, anything at all that would show him how to get on to the Hogwarts Express. 

His concentration firmly set on anything but the direction of his trolley, Harry startled himself by narrowly avoiding a bench in the middle of the platform. Thankful for not drawing more attention to himself with a crash, he leant forward to right Hedwig’s cage on top of his trunk as she gave a rather unbecoming squawk of indignation. 

Attempting to reassure her, and himself, that they’d get to Hogwarts at some point that day, Harry moved his trolley back round, away from the bench, just as he noticed a woman sitting down on the very same bench, notepad and pen in hand. 

Something in the back of Harry’s memory flickered in recognition, and he moved back round out of curiosity to get a closer look.

_At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying._

_‘- packed with Muggles, of course -’_

Harry’s suspicion firmly diverted, he immediately headed in the direction of the group.

 

Part II

_And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville’s toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays (‘I always hope they’ll forget to give us these,’ said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavour Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters to King’s Cross Station._

_It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn’t attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles._

Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in line behind a woman on her own. Harry assumed she must have been a parent of someone at Hogwarts to be passing through the barrier into the Muggle train station, particularly today.

As the trio continued their conversation, the woman glanced round behind her before moving forward to pass through the barrier. Harry paused in his agreement with Ron that they’d have to try and go to a Quidditch match sometime trying to place the face he’d just seen, before being roped back into the enthusiastic chatter.

_‘You must come and stay this summer,’ said Ron, ‘both of you – I’ll send an owl.’_

_‘Thanks,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll need something to look forward to.’_

_People jostled them as they moved forwards towards the gateway back to the Muggle world._

 

* * *

Chapter 3: Second Year

* * *

 

_‘We’ll all meet outside Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books’ said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. ‘And not one step down Knockturn Alley!’ she shouted after the twins’ retreating backs._

_Harry, Ron and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver and bronze jangling cheerfully in Harry’s pocket was clamouring to be spent._

With the ever-expanding queue outside Flourish and Blotts, the three decided to head into Florean Fortescue’s for a quick snack

 As Harry moved to push the door open, he slipped forwards with Ron stumbling behind when the door opened at the same time from the other side. Harry looked up to see a woman holding the door open, gazing down up at them as Hermione murmured a brief ‘thank you’ before ushering the boys through the doorway.

Harry paid for the cones as the trio moved outside to avoid the crowds that were descending on the Ice Cream Parlour, whilst his mind kicked into overdrive. He knew for a fact he’d seen her before, picking through his memories in an attempt to recollect the familiarity of her.

 Wandering down the street, they attempted to avoid the crowds of prospective and returning students all shopping for last minute school supplies, and finally found a bench set slightly apart from the hustle and bustle. Watching the mass, Harry suddenly recalled the mysterious woman’s presence over the past couple of years. Separate and fleeting enough not to be instantly recognisable, he became suspicious that this was not just coincidence. 

Turning to his best friends to voice his apprehension on the matter, Harry decided against it on seeing Ron’s gaze firmly fixed on the new set of Chudley Cannons robes in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Hermione restudying her reading list for their second year, making sure she hadn’t yet missed anything. Harry dampened his wariness by reasoning with himself that the Wizarding World was simply a small enough place and that bumping into people he might have seen before was fairly inevitable. Cones finished and time creeping up on them, Harry and his friends attempted to make their way over to Flourish and Blotts with more important matters at the forefront of their minds.

_They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:_

_GILDEROY LOCKHART_  
will be signing copies of his autobiography  
MAGICAL ME  
today 12.30 – 4.30pm

 

* * *

Chapter 4: Third Year

* * *

 

_All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon’s car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors, and footsteps on the garden path._

_‘Get the door!’ Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry._

_A feel of great gloom in his stomach, Harry pulled the door open._

_On the threshold stood Aunt Marge. She was very like Uncle Vernon; large, beefy and purple-faced, she even had a moustache, though not as bushy as his. In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog. ... They all trooped into the kitchen leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase. But Harry wasn’t complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by him._

He peeked out of the front door into the peaceful summer’s evening in Privet Drive, well aware that the same calmness would not continue on into Number 4 for the foreseeable future. 

Glancing across the road, Harry noticed Mrs. Figg answering the door to a woman facing away from him. He nodded and waved at his former babysitter, as the old lady greeted her visitor, casting a knowing smile in his direction

Somewhat agitated by this, Harry pulled the front door firmly back in place, turning to face the rest of the house and contemplating how to go about the business of achieving Vernon’s signature on the Hogsmeade permission slip without doing something ridiculous like blowing up Marge. 

_So he began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as he could._

 

* * *

Chapter 5: Fourth Year

* * *

 

Part I

_They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field towards a dark wood on the horizon. They said goodbye to the Diggorys, and approached the cottage door._

Waiting in a short queue of other early rises travelling in for the Quidditch World Cup, the group set down the bags they’d been carrying with them.

‘Remind me again why Bill and Charlie or even Percy couldn’t just apparate in with our stuff instead of us having to carry it?’ Fred remarked, stretching out his arms in an effort to wake himself up properly.

‘Come now boys,’ Mr. Weasley replied, ‘This is bracing! You just wait until we get into the campsite, you’ll forget all about your moanings!’

‘Sure Dad,’ said George, ‘I’m sure nothing will beat trudging through another mile of mud to a delightful tent scented with mildew and mould.’

The twins wandered a short way apart from the queue, still grumbling at having the last of their Tonne-Tongue Toffees confiscated, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Mr. Weasley to wait in line.

Ron settled down on the damp ground against the pile of bags, apparently ready for a long wait and a nap despite the short queue in front of them, while Hermione and Ginny gossiped about whom else from Hogwarts might be there as well. Harry turned his attention to the other people ahead of them.

A group of young men all looking particularly scruffy and half-asleep, he assumed largely due the untimely start, were attempting to sort through a handful of notes and coins for the site manager before just handing over the pile of Muggle money to the man and walking away, leaving the manager looking very pleased with himself as he half-heartedly attempted to call them back for their change.

 Not far behind them and a short way in front of Harry’s group, a woman stepped forward to greet the man, money already in hand. It struck him as quite odd to see someone on their own attending the Cup; he’d only seen groups of people and families arriving and setting up. As she was handed a map in return, she turned to walk past their small group, smiling at Harry before heading in the direction of a line of tents.

Mr. Weasley bustled forward, as the group picked up their bags and Harry and Hermione attempted to stir Ron.

_‘Morning!’ said Mr. Weasley brightly._

_‘Morning,’ said the Muggle._

_‘Would you be Mr. Roberts?’_

_‘Aye, I would,’ said Mr. Roberts. ‘And who’re you?’_

_‘Weasley – two tents, booked a couple of days ago?’_

 

Part II

_Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically ... the scene flickered oddly before Harry’s eyes._

_‘It’s all right, son, I’ve got you ... come in ... hospital wing ...’_

_‘Dumbledore said stay,’ said Harry thickly, the pounding in his scar making him feel as though he was about to throw up; his vision was blurring worse than ever._

_‘You need to lie down ... come on, now ...’_

_Someone larger and stronger than Harry was, was half pulling, half carrying him through the frightened crowd; Harry heard them gasping, screaming and shouting as the man supporting him pushed a path through them, taking him back to the castle._

Harry’s gaze flickered again as his eyes passed over emotion-filled faces in the crowd.

The nausea returned two-fold as he struggled to discern features of the people around him, trying to make sense of the world.

He locked eyes with an adult that the person escorting him roughly pushed out of the way. He knew those eyes, he’d seen them before.

In his daze, he managed to throw another unfocussed glance in the woman’s direction, before being dragged onwards, away from the horrifying scene behind him.

_Across the lawn, past the lake and the Durmstrang ship; Harry heard nothing but the heavy breathing of the man helping him walk._

_‘What happened, Harry?’ the man asked at last, as he lifted Harry up the stone steps._ Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. _It was Mad-Eye Moody._

_‘Cup was a Portkey,’ said Harry, as they crossed the Entrance Hall. ‘Took me and Cedric to a graveyard ... and Voldemort was there ... Lord Voldemort ...’_

 

* * *

Chapter 6: Fifth Year

* * *

 

Part I

_‘Here we go!’ called Tonks, and a few seconds later she landed._

_Harry touched down right behind her and dismounted on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. Tonks was already unbuckling Harry’s trunk. Shivering, Harry looked around. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps._

Harry examined the buildings in front of him as the other members of the guard landed and righted themselves.

He was studying a particularly dirty windowed-building when he heard the distinct sound of heeled shoes against the pavement.

Looking around, he noticed a woman walking along the street not too far away from where the group had come to a stop. This was particularly peculiar, as he was sure he hadn’t seen anyone approach the square, or heard a door close. It was as if she’d just appeared out of thin air, without the distinguishing ‘pop’ of apparition.

_‘Where are we?’ Harry asked, but Lupin said quietly, ‘In a minute.’_

_Moody was rummaging in his cloak, his gnarled hands clumsy with cold._

_‘Got it,’ he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clicking it._

 

Part II

_The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr. Weasley stepped out of it, followed by Harry, whose mouth had fallen open._

_They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly noticeboard, The walls on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft_ whoosh _. On the right-hand side, short queues were forming before each fire-place waiting to depart._

As he waited for Mr. Weasley to gather himself together, Harry took a look around at the atrium from where they stood. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so many wizards and witches busying about. Even Diagon Alley on the last day before Hogwarts started wasn’t as full of activity as this.

His gaze wandered across the queues of people on each side, taking in the multi-coloured robes of each person, as well as a variety of odd things being carried. Harry was fairly certain he heard a hiss from one box being carried past him, and could have sworn he spotted a crate supported by several wizards that seemed oddly reminiscent of the one he and Hermione had hidden Hagrid’s ‘pet’ dragon Norbert in all those years ago.

Watching the queues building as more people waited to leave by Floo powder, one woman in particular caught Harry’s eye. She looked up, meeting his stare, and smiled. 

It was the woman. The mysterious woman. He had no doubts, this was the woman that had been appearing throughout his life.

He felt an urge to go and talk to her, find out who she was, ask why the interest in him? But on second thoughts, he realised it would be pretty stupid to walk up to a stranger and ask why he’d seen her several times. Hadn’t he already grasped that the Wizarding world was very small indeed? It was no surprise that he’d spotted her in several places, this was not out of the ordinary.

But something told Harry that this was not just a coincidence. There was something special about this woman.

He took a step in her direction, and just about decided that he would go over and talk to her, when Mr. Weasley’s voice behind him brought him back to reality.

‘Right. All sorted. You ok there, Harry?’ 

Harry glanced back to the queue along the wall, trying to spot the woman once more, but couldn’t find her. Assuming she must have flooed out already, he turned back to his escort.

‘Yes. I’m fine. Just nervous.’

Casting one more look around the atrium, he felt Mr. Weasley’s reassuring hand on his shoulder as the man nodded down at him in understanding.

_‘This way,’ said Mr. Weasley._

_They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases; still others were reading the_ Daily Prophet _while they walked. As they passed the fountain Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at him from the bottom of the pool._

 

* * *

Chapter 7: Sixth Year

* * *

 

Part I

_Despite the fact that he had spent every waking moment of the past few days hoping desperately that Dumbledore would indeed come to fetch him, Harry felt distinctly awkward as they set off down Privet Drive together. He had never had a proper conversation with his headmaster outside Hogwarts before; there was usually a desk between them. ..._

_Dumbledore, however, seemed completely relaxed._

They continued on past the houses of Harry’s neighbours, including that of Mrs. Figg, Harry’s former babysitter and cat enthusiast.

A woman turned the corner at the end of the street, heading towards them along the pavement. As she came closer, Harry began to feel the sense of recognition that was becoming familiar the more the mysterious woman came into his life.

She looked up and smiled at the odd duo making their way down the Drive. Dumbledore nodded in greeting at her, his smile in return bringing that familiar twinkle to his eye.

Harry was surprised at the apparent friendliness between his Headmaster and this woman, as he became suspicious that there must be more to her presence in his life than he’d first thought.

She crossed the road a little way ahead of them, heading towards one of the houses Harry later realised was Mrs. Figg’s.

An odd feeling of unsettlement came over Harry, as he turned to the seemingly oblivious Professor next to him.

‘Sir,’ Harry began, knowing already his curiosity would go unanswered.

_‘Keep your wand at the ready, Harry,’ he said brightly._

_‘But I thought I’m not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?’_

_‘If there is an attack,’ said Dumbledore, ‘I give you permission to use any counter-jinx or –curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked tonight.’_

_‘Why not, sir?’_

_‘You are with me,’ said Dumbledore simply. ‘This will do, Harry.’_

_He came to an abrupt halt at the end of Privet Drive._

 

Part II

_It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favourite_ Weasley is our King _, he pretended to conduct them from on high._

Turning his Firebolt around to scan the air for any signs of the Snitch, Harry strained to catch sight of Dumbledore's silver beard in the staff box, though he already suspected that if the Headmaster even was at Hogwarts, he’d have plenty more important things to do than attend a Quidditch match.

He was, however, very amused to spot a usually-reserved McGonagall cheering enthusiastically as Demelza scored yet again for Gryffindor.

Two rows directly behind the Transfiguration Professor, looking out of place due to her lack of formal robes, sat Harry’s mysterious woman. Quill in hand, she nodded at him, which he took as encouragement, smiling back at her.

Turning his attention back to the game, his concentration was swiftly disrupted by the Slytherin seeker.

_‘Thinks he’s something special today, doesn’t he?’ said a snide voice, and Harry was nearly knocked off his broom as Harper collided with him hard and deliberately. ‘Your blood traitor pal...’_

_Madam Hooch’s back was turned, and though Gryffindors below shouted in anger, by the time she looked round Harper had already sped off. His shoulder aching, Harry raced after him, determined to ram him back..._

 

Part III

_They were heading, as Harry saw when he stepped out on to the stone steps from the front doors, towards the lake, The warmth of the sun caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle ran down the centre of them: there was a marble table standing at the front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer’s day._

_An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Most Harry did not recognise, but there were a few that he did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin._

Behind the Weasley clan sat the familiar woman. Harry recalled the acknowledgement between her and Dumbledore one night during the previous summer, before...

He silently berated himself for never asking his Professor about the apparent relationship between himself and the mysterious woman. Dumbledore would surely have known. Now, the idea seemed a little preposterous. There was so much he should have asked him, so much he felt he should know, should be aware of.

Harry felt lost. Disoriented. Adrift.

But still, this woman’s presence comforted him. He knew she meant him now harm. The tenuous connection between them was now gave him a sense of solace. It struck Harry that in all the years he’d been aware of her, he’d never mentioned her to anyone else. In a way he didn’t feel the need. And honestly, he wasn’t sure he ever would.

Her appearance was for Harry, and Harry alone. A secret for just himself. And this was more of a comfort than anything else at that moment.

His attention drifted on to the other’s in the crowd of grievers, past the other members of the Order. He spotted Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge, two member of the Advance Guard that escorted Harry to Grimmauld Place almost two years ago.

_Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own, Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, Arabella Figg, Harry’s Squib neighbour, the hair bass player from the Wizarding group the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and some people whom Harry merely knew by sight, such as the barman of the Hog’s Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air._

 

* * *

Chapter 8: Seventh Year

* * *

 

Part I

_Strung all around with coloured lights, there was what looked like a war memorial in the middle, partly obscured by a wind-blown Christmas tree. There were several shops, a post-office, a pub and a little church whose stained-glass windows were glowing jewel bright across the square._

_The snow here had become impacted: it was hard and slippery where people had trodden on it all day. Villagers were criss-crossing in front of them, their figures briefly illuminated by street lamps._

Harry looked around at the strangers, wondering if there could be any kind of relation between himself and these unknown people. Could one of them have been a neighbour when he livedhere, in Godric’s Hollow as a young child? Would any of them remember him or his family? He knew it was a mixture of both muggle and Wizarding people populating the small town.

A familiar face came walking across the square, towards the pub. Harry knew on instinct it was his mysterious woman. He wondered with curiosity at the reason for her being in his birthplace, tonight of all nights.

But Harry was too excited at the thought of coming home to give it much thought. Hermione, adamant that they keep out of sight as much as possible to keep their identities hidden, pulled him further into the shadows, out of the lights streaming across the paths.

_They heard a snatch of laughter and pop music as the pub door opened and closed; then they head a carol start up inside the little church._

_‘Harry, I think it’s Christmas Eve!’ said Hermione._

 

Part II

_The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light. Harry was an indispensable part of the mingled outpourings of jubilation and mourning, of grief and celebration. ..._

_After a while, exhausted and drained, Harry found himself sitting on a bench beside Luna._

_‘I’d want some peace and quiet, if it were me,’ she said._

_‘I’d love some,’ he replied._

_‘I’ll distract them all,’ she said. ‘Use your Cloak.’_

_And before he could say a word she had cried, ‘Ooooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!’ and pointed out of the window. Everyone who heard looked around, and Harry slid the Cloak up over himself, and got to his feet._

_Now he could move through the Hall without interference. He spotted Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on her mother’s shoulder: there would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk. He saw Neville, the sword of Gryffindor lying beside his plate as he ate, surrounded by a knot of fervent admirers._

Scanning the room, looking for his best friends, Harry’s eyes roamed past the doorway of the Great Hall, damaged but still standing.

There in the doorway she stood. The woman.

Their eyes locked, her smile once more in place. Harry raised his hand in greeting as she nodded back towards him.

Again, the connection coursed between them. But this time, he knew there was something different. After all of the past year’s events, Harry felt a touch of sadness at the thought that this relationship wasn’t going to be the same again.

She broke their eye contact, looking around the Hall, taking in the destruction that somehow now had a trace of beauty about it in the glorious light of both victory and the new dawn.

The woman met his gaze again as he took a step in her direction, wanting to acknowledge her more than ever, to realise their bond. Harry couldn’t hide his disappointment as she shook her head, refusing his intention.

She smiled once more at Harry before turning her back to the Great Hall and leaving the scene. And this time, he knew, would be the last time they would meet. 

Dampening the potential gloom rising in his chest, he turned back to the world around him. This was the world in which he belonged. This was the world where he was needed, and he needed to be. A world in which happiness could spread freely now, with no threat from one individual determined on his demise. And Harry felt more determined than ever to find the two who meant the most to him.

_Along the aisle between the tables he walked, and he spotted the three Malfoys, huddled together as though unsure whether or not they were supposed to be there, but nobody was paying them any attention. Everywhere he looked he saw families reunited, and finally, he saw the two whose company he craved the most._

_‘It’s me,’ he muttered, crouching down between them. ‘Will you come with me?’_

_They stood up at once, and together he, Ron and Hermione left the Great Hall. Great chunks were missing from the marble staircase, part of the balustrade, and rubble and bloodstains occurred every few steps as they climbed._

_Somewhere in the distance they could hear Peeves zooming through the corridors singing a victory song of his own composition:_

We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter’s the One,  
And Voldy’s gone mouldy so now let’s have fun!

 

* * *

Chapter 9: Epilogue

* * *

 

_Nineteen Years Later_

_Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp and golden as an apple, and as the little family bobbed across the rumbling road towards the great, sooty station, the fumer of car exhausts and the breath of pedestrians sparkled like cobwebs in the cold air. Two large cages rattle on top of the laden trolleys the parents were pushing; the owls inside them hooted indignantly, and the red-headed girl trailed tearfully behind her brothers, clutching her father’s arm. ..._

_The train began to move, and Harry walked alongside it, watching his son’s thin face, already ablaze with excitement. Harry kept smiling, and waving, even though it was like a little bereavement, watching his son glide away from him ..._

_The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry’s hand was still raised in farewell._

_‘He’ll be all right,’ murmured Ginny._

_As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absent-mindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead._

_‘I know he will.’_

Harry smiled down at his wife, slipping his hand in hers. As he turned back to Platform 9 ¾, his breath caught in his throat as he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. A face he had been sure he would never see again.

‘Gin, I’ll be back in a moment.’

He was grateful that Ginny understood this was something he needed to do alone.

‘Sure. I’ll be with the others,’ And she kissed him on the cheek as she left to find the rest of the family.

Harry stepped through the mass of family members that had just seen off their children, determined to find the face he’d known all his life. The crowd began to disperse, and suddenly, he saw her.

After all these years, she looked the same. She hadn’t changed.

He moved past the last few groups heading towards the barrier, to where she stood against a wall.

And then, she was in front of him. The woman. His woman. His mysterious woman.

‘Harry,’ she greeted him as an old friend. He struggled to find the words to express his happiness that he could finally meet her.

‘Your children are beautiful, as is your wife.’

‘Thank you.’ He managed, trying to think of something to fill the following silence.

She glanced up at the large clock over the platform.

‘You need to go.’ He stated, rather than questioned. She smiled in answer.

‘You never stay.’

‘I never can.’ This time, his breath caught in bitter disappointment.

‘You won’t be back again, will you?’

‘I’m afraid this is the end of our story, Harry.’ He nodded, already knowing her answer.

She looked up to the clock once more, and touched a long golden chain round her neck.

‘Just promise me one thing,’ He asked her, knowing she’d be leaving soon.

‘Of course.’

‘Will you... Will you write it well? My story, I mean.’

‘I promise.’ She replied, and he knew without doubt that she would.

He paused, not knowing what to say next. She smiled and leaned forward, embracing him.

‘Thank you,’ he told her, stifling the tears threatening to spill past his familiar glasses.

‘That’s quite alright. Take care, Harry Potter.’

‘You too,’ He began, realising that in all this time, he hadn’t know her name.

‘Jo,’ She supplied, ‘My name is Jo Rowling.’

‘Thank you, Jo.’

She hugged him once more, and he knew their time was over.

‘Goodbye, Harry.’

He stepped back, allowing her to pull the chain from beneath her shirt. She held the time-turner delicately in her fingers, before twisting it. Harry raised his hand once more in farewell as she slipped from view, back into the past.

He brushed his forehead with his fingers for the second time that day.

 

_The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years._

_All was well._

 


End file.
